


(Un)Invited

by aLovelyrose



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship, Michael Langdon Smut, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Vampire Bites, Vampire Michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aLovelyrose/pseuds/aLovelyrose
Summary: One lonely night, as you sit at home, the doorbell rings. Who would come to visit you this late? Suddenly, you are dragged into a centuries-long feud Between immortals that leaves you changed forever.
Relationships: Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	1. The Guest

**Author's Note:**

> What's up? I'm posting on here again. Because Michael Langdon still inspires me and I love him more than my own life. So, here's an extremely short chapter on a new work I'm writing. I just got impatient and wanted to go ahead and publish it. Don't worry, I promise there's more. Let me know if you enjoyed it!

It's not as if you were afraid to be home alone. You'd lived on your own for a couple of years and never had a problem. However, tonight, for some inexplicable reason, the air was chillier tonight, like a thin sheet of ice forming on your spine. The night breeze howled against the walls, creating an eerie creaking like the crack of brittle bones. Suddenly the house seemed less like a refuge and more like a cage, keeping you trapped by some unseen, unknowable creature.

You tried to calm yourself down, keep your mind occupied so you wouldn't think about the shadows in every corner. You made some tea, curled up on the couch with a soft blanket, queued up Netflix, and hoped an episode of your favorite show would distract you. Yet even as it played on, it couldn't drown out the ringing alarm in your brain; like a primal instinct. Like prey sensing the hunter.

the chiming doorbell made you jump, nearly spilling your tea. You checked your phone. 10:34 pm. Who would come to see you this late?

The alarm screamed louder, pleading with you not to open the door; to just ignore it, to hide beneath the blanket and hope they go away.

The bell chimes again.

Against your better judgment, you slipped off the couch and walked to the door, cautiously unlocking it and opening it to the uninvited guest.

There beneath the dim porch light, barely illuminated against the black night, stood a man. Or at least, he looked like a man. But not like one you had ever seen. To call him beautiful would be a gross understatement. He was a perfect creature, elegant and striking. The moment your eyes met his icy blue gaze, a mist swallowed your mind, leaving you drifting in a haze.

"Hello," he says in a silken voice, "I apologize for disturbing you so late, but I was wondering if I could come in?"

His words barely register at first as you try to piece together if you've ever seen this gentleman before, or if you had heard a car pull up in your driveway. However, when the request has sunk in, you can't help a frightened look crossing your features as you mumble a 'no' under your breath before pushing the door shut.

A polished black boot stops the door before it could close; you stare at it in fear, slowly tracing your gaze from the boot to his undeniably alluring face, where his cold eyes met yours with deadly intent. You swallow hard, frozen in fear.

"May I come in?" he enunciated each syllable slowly, his dulcet tone entering your ears, and like sweet, soft music that bids you move your body to its melody, his voice tempted you to obey his words. Your body felt heavy, swaying slowly as if you could collapse any minute. Somehow, your mind could focus just enough within the trance to realize that the words leaving your lips were not what you wanted to say.

"Come in."

You screamed inwardly, feeling as though you were in a dream where your voice dies in your throat. He inclines his head in a gesture of thanks, whether it was mocking or not was up for debate, and steps past you with the effortless grace of any feline. You can do nothing but stand there like a dullard, waiting for his command.

”Close the door,” his warm voice is right next to your ear, making you shiver involuntarily. You obey him instantly, despite your shaking hands and internal defiance. You wanted to shriek, to call for help, but that inclination was crushed the moment the door shut in your face.

”Now, then,” the strange man speaks lowly, his long, beautiful fingers curling around your arms. His touch is cold as death, “Why don’t you show me to your bedroom? I want you to be comfortable.”

with heavy legs, you trudge onward toward your bedroom near the back of the house. Every instinct fights against whatever spell he’s cast over you. Fear prickled you’re skin.

”P-please don’t hurt me...” you whimper, able to wrangle some control back to yourself.

”There’s no reason for me to hurt you,” he explains calmly, following right behind you, “Unless you decide to fight.”

You round the corner to your bedroom, having to lean on the wall to keep from falling. You have to escape. Somehow. But where would you go? You could just run down the street screaming...

”Go and lie down, my dear,” he gently urges, “This won’t take long, I assure you.”

He must’ve let his guard down, lessened his hold on you, because you feel the mist lift slightly as you take a step forward. It’s just enough. You whirl around, tight fist aiming straight for his gut. If you can just slow him down, and run—

It feels like you hit a brick wall. You cry out in pain, tears forming in your eyes as you look to see his large hand gripping your own with a force no human could command. He seems unamused.

”Strike one,” he says coolly, “If you don’t want to suffer, you’ll get on the bed and hold still.”

Despite the pain, panic rising up in your throat, you jerk your knee up to his groin, but before you can even blink he has you pinned, chest against the wall. He leans forward, the tip of his nose brushing along your neck. The terror pumping through your veins keeps you still, trembling. You can feel his mouth smile against your skin as he breathes out a dark chuckle.

”Or this will do perfectly.”

”P-please,” you mumble, “Please just—”

A sharp sting cuts off your words, two punctures, like large needles pierce your throat. You can only release a high-pitched squeal before the pain silences you. You can feel the blood being drawn from your body, the warm liquid spills slightly from the wounds and you can see it drip slowly onto your shirt from the corner of your eye. The horror slowly dawns on you that you might die tonight.

Then, unexpectedly, another sensation follows the agony. Euphoria. Like nothing you’ve ever experienced. Pleasure rushes through you, soaking to your bones and causing you to shake. A soft, gasping moan escapes you. The stranger’s tongue slithers out and licks the blood from your stained skin. He shivers against you, groaning as if in pure ecstasy.

”I never expected,” he whispers, “That you’d taste so _delicious_.”

His lips cover the wounds and suck gently, making you moan again. You felt weak, all the strength leaving your body.

the last thing you know before darkness is you falling back into the stranger’s arms and gasping one last time.


	2. Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re haunted by the stranger who entered your home that night. And now you might have more to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! I rushed to get this chapter finished, I was so excited. I hope you throughly enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

The sunlight from your bedroom window slipped in through the cracks in your blinds; you stirred, groaning as you push yourself up onto your elbows. A sharp pain makes you gasp and reach up to touch your neck, where your fingertips brush over two puncture wounds. The skin around them is raised and warm to touch, you drag yourself from your bed, still weak, and go to your bathroom to assess the damage. Perhaps your mind was more still cloudy from the way the stranger had hypnotized you, but every step felt like a dream as if you only thought you had been bitten. Last night must’ve been some horrible nightmare…

The mirror dashed that hope as you beheld the inflamed holes in your throat, your skin splattered with dark, ugly bruises. The sight weakened your knees, your legs trembled, threatening to buckle beneath you. You gripped the sink counter to steady yourself, trying not to hyperventilate as breath refused to enter your lungs.

Last night had been real. Terrifyingly real.

_ I never expected you’d be so delicious… _

That’s what he had said to you before you fainted. Did that mean he would come again for another meal? Would he kill you this next time? It was frightening enough to wrestle with the fact that such a thing as vampires exists, but now you also have to wonder if you’re being stalked by one. Would you have to stock up on garlic and crucifixes?

Yet, in the midst of your anxious thoughts, the remembrance of the stranger’s fingers gripping you, his lips on your flushed skin as you trembled under him, and the unimaginable pleasure once the initial shock had subsided made you ache; and you hated it. You had been violated, assaulted…

But the way his words caressed your ears was enthralling. Even the fear had been thrilling in its own way.

Pushing the thought away in disgust, you fumble through a drawer to find some antibiotic ointment and some Band-Aids. You had to think that vampire wounds would be treatable as any other. They stung as you applied the ointment, your fingers still shaking. You had to lie down before you fainted again, groping along the walls to stay upright. You barely managed to collapse on your bed with a heavy sigh. Before you could have another coherent thought, your eyelids fluttered closed and unconsciousness overtook you again.

It wouldn’t be unusual to have a nightmare after such a traumatic experience; which is what you should be having. Yet as you lay asleep, cold and weak, all your mind is filled with is the stranger holding you close to his chest. He’s whispering, but it’s hard to make out exactly what he’s saying; even still his voice touches deep into your soul, caressing you like the gentle kiss of the mist in the air. Your skin tingled with each dulcet word. The strangest thing was, even having gotten a good look at him, the sight of his face escaped you. He was no more than a shadow, an incomprehensible figure looming in the dark corners of your mind. His hands...those hands striking and cold as jewels sliding over you in the silver moonlight. They’d made you shiver over cloth, you could only imagine what they’d feel like over your bare skin.

This dream, these fantasies, recurred over the next few days, unstoppable and persistent. Your mind buzzed at the thought of him, your heart hammering in your chest as you checked over your shoulder at night. You  _ wanted  _ to see him standing over you. You  _ needed _ to feel that unbearable bliss that came with the anguish of his bite. The memory of his voice made your thoughts hazy, your mind drifting lost amid a dreamy sea. You craved him.

What had he done to you?

There was nothing besides pure wishing that would give you the chance to encounter him one more time. In all likelihood, you would never see the stranger again. The thought made you feel a pang of emptiness as if he’d...marked you.

The only thing that you had to distract you was work, a night shift bartending which you’d had off that fateful evening. It was slow tonight, which wasn’t odd for a weekday. The hard rock music drifted over the speakers as you stood behind the counter, bored and staring at the clock for when your shift would be over.

Suddenly, in the midst of the relative quiet, the door of the bar swung open to reveal a group of three men. One looked like a stoner, dark circles beneath his eyes with shaggy blonde hair sweeping over his eyes, the second one wore a leather outfit, a bright red streak in his black hair. The third was...familiar. He had thick, curly dark hair, dressed in a t-shirt and leather jacket. He carried the braggadocio of one in charge, swaggering into the bar with the other two trailing behind him like body guards.

And his face...you recognized it from somewhere.

The two lackeys fell back and found a table in the corner as the leader approached the bar, leaning against the counter and flashing a wicked grin at you. Under the dim light, you could better see his eyes, which were dark, almost black, set in what was an undeniably attractive face. Attractive in such a  _ familiar  _ way.

“What can I get ya?” you ask, eyeing him warily.

“I don’t know,” he says, his voice like cigarette smoke, “I’m kinda liking what I’m looking at.”

You’d roll your eyes if a sudden fear disn’t latch onto you like a parasite, suddenly draining any sense of comfort you felt. Those eyes were like two voids, you fell into them and felt yourself spiraling in darkness. There was nothing behind them. Only something sinister.

He chuckles darkly after a moment of silence, “I’m messing with you, sweetheart. Just give me three beers.”

You have to force yourself to move, his intense gaze making your skin tingle, goosebumps rising along your arms. Once again prey in the direct sight of a predator. You hand him the three drinks and he slams a twenty on the counter with a wink, “Keep the change.”

You didn’t feel safe the rest of the night as they sat in the corner and watched you, ogled you like a pride of lions would fresh meat. Especially the leader. The way his unfeeling gaze undressed you made you as shaky as…

Well, no, nothing made you shiver like the stranger had.

All you could do was hope they were just looking. Even as they laughed amongst each other, they would steal glances at you. Hungry, ravenous glances.Then, eventually, when you have the last call, they got up and left, their beers untouched.

It took about an hour to lock up and be on your way to your car, which you were hesitant to do. Yet, there was secret thrill that rushed through you thinking about the stranger finding you on your way to your car and—

You shook your head to get rid of the dark fantasy, walking out of the bar with your head down and eyes tightly in your hand.

“There she is,” a gruff male voice announces.

You jump and looks up to see the three men standing in front of you where you were certain they weren’t before. You swallow hard and try to walk around them, pressing your lips together and gripping your keys tighter.

A hand yanks you back by the hood of your jacket, shoving you against the brick wall of the side of the building. The leader has you pressed on your back, struggling to get out of his grasp.

“Ah, calm down, cutie,” he grins, “It’ll be a lot easier if you don’t struggle.”

He jerks your head to the side, exposing your throat and the two bandaged wounds. Panicking, you slam your knee into his crotch, causing him to stumble back and growl in pain. You take off running to your car. It’s just acrosss the parking lot, you can make it, you can make it—

The two lackeys appear in front of you, as if they’d teleported. You try to scream, skirting to a stop, but the sound is muffled by their hands over your mouth and groping at your body. The leader approaches them as they hold your stuggling form, his eyes beginning to glow red like blood.

Again, you have the horrible feeling that you’re going to die, and brace yourself for the end.

A blood-curdling roar pierces the night, a tall dark figure leaping from the shadows and tackling him. The two holding you make a move to run, but are too late as your rescuer grabs their throats and tosses them away on either side like they weigh less than paper. You collapse to the ground, startled silent as you push yourself away from the scene. The leader snarls, sounding more like an animal, and rushes the figure, but he grabs his arm with lightning speed and snaps it, causing him to scream and roar like a bat from hell.

Unmoving, terrified, you start to cry, feeling like a rabbit trapped between two wild dogs. You cower down as your unknown savior throws the other man off to the side, still screaming in pain, and walks over to you, picking you up in his arms. You don’t struggle, you whimper, begging, pleading to not be hurt.

“Shh,” a familiar, haunting voice commands as a fingertip brushes along your forehead, “Sleep.”

Once again, against your will, you are plunged into darkness.


	3. Hidden Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your savior turns out to be your captor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up! I know I say this every chapter, but I was super excited to post this. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

It wasn’t the sun that woke you up this time, but the ephemeral scent of roses. Trance-heavy, your eyes hesitate to open again to the world, still peacefully keeping you in a waking dream, only barely aware of your surroundings. The warm glow of gently dancing candlelight was hidden behind a sleepy gauze, the rest of the room coming into view as obscure shapes. You consider briefly if you should drift off again, the temptation heightened by the soft brush of silk beneath you…

It isn’t until in your stupor you give thought to where you were that the horror of your previous waking moments washes over you like the cold waves of a stormy sea. You sit up with wide eyes and trembling breaths, taking in the room more fully. The walls were stone, not concrete but natural stone as if it had been hewn inside a mountain or hillside. Against the rocky wall were candelabras, the only source of light, which gave the room a haunting color. Across the bed you sat on was a large, 18th century-style wardrobe and a set of drawers with a marble counter. Beside you was a nightstand, a bottle of water sitting atop. You hesitate to reach for it, but your parched throat urges you to unscrew the top and take a big gulp.

You spot the door on the other side of the room and quickly hop up, realizing that you’re still dressed in your “work clothes”, which consisted of a black t-shirt and jeans. You had no idea how long you’ve been out. Assuming that your kidnapper was still around, you cautiously approach the door and open it slowly, wincing as it whines against the hinges. It opens to a long corridor which resembles a normal house more than the cave-like interior of the singular room, the same style of furniture decorating it. Your eyes immediately search for another door. You had to be underground, you thought, meaning you probably had to look for some kind of tunnel exit. Sneaking forward, you spot a door that could possibly be an exit. Taking a glance around, you break into a sprint. Just a few steps away⎼⎼

Before you could blink, he was in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest, “Sneaky little thing.”

You gasp and skid to a stop, nearly losing your balance. The man before you is tall and lean, golden locks streaming over his shoulders like pure sunlight, his eyes the same light, pure blue as the clear sky; yet they held a dark allure from which you couldn’t tear your own eyes away. He was dressed in a black waistcoat and jacket, a crimson cravat with a singular jewel in the center decorating his neck. Every inch was immaculately put together, not one hair or thread out of place. And his voice, that familiar dulcet tone that had swirled around in your head during both your waking and dreaming moments, met your ears now with its unsettling beauty. The last time you saw such a magnificent creature was at your door, bidding you let him inside. 

His full lips are set in an amused smirk, “Don’t be afraid, if I wanted to hurt you I would have done so already.”

“I-It’s you,” you mumble stupidly, looking around again as if for a place to escape, though you’d probably have a better chance digging your way out than getting through a door, “Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” he takes two gliding steps forward, his gaze never leaving yours, “In an underground apartment.”

You retreat back, bumping into a sofa. The vague memory of your obscured savior holding you close flashed in your mind, “What the hell happened last night?”

“You had the unfortunate luck of meeting some...unsavory characters. You were lucky I was keeping an eye on you.”

The admission shocked you, though considering that he had rescued you, maybe shouldn’t have. Your lips parting slightly, “You were…why?”

Another step and he has you trapped, just like before, his skin just inches away, the scent of roses which had awoken you wafting gently from him like a mist fogging up your mind. His smile, a sardonic grin, forms words that make heat pool in your stomach, “Because, you taste delectable."

You swallow, your throat dry again as his hypnotic voice glides like silk over the word delectable. Staring into his eyes is too intense and you look away, hating how your fingers shake as you wring them in front of you. You try and fail to sound commanding as you say, “I wanna go home. Now.”

He straightens again, his hand reaching out to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “If you were to leave now they’d most certainly take you for their own nefarious ends.”

The gesture frightens you in your already disconcerted state, like a scared doe catching sight of a hunter, yet the sheer contact of skin against skin is enough to rekindle all those hidden thoughts of him returning to claim you. 

“And you didn’t?” you challenge, trying to not let him affect you.

He doesn’t answer for a few silent moments, making you wonder if you’d somehow stumped him, or caused him to reconsider his actions. 

“You’re mine, little one,” he finally says almost solemnly, “I claimed you.”

Indignation rises up in you, overpowering your fear enough to make your gaze shoot up to meet him in a glare, “I don’t belong to anyone!”

Yet, somewhere deep in your heart you knew he was telling the truth. You could feel it in the way you reacted to him, in the yearning to have his touch. He’d marked you, both for himself and now apparently for others.

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” he admonishes with an angry frown, “I own you. And those bastards tried to damage my property.”

_ Property _ . It made you bristle.

“Take me home,  _ now _ ,” you demanded, gaining more courage.

“I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, letting go of your chin, “For the foreseeable future, this is your home.” 

Fight or flight kicks into high gear and you rush for the door behind him, only to be grabbed by the wrist with crushing strength and jerked back, struggling with building anger as you pull your arm and slap at him to let go of you. It’s as effective as a five year old fighting a heavyweight champion. He practically throws and pins you to the nearby wall, causing you to cry out in pain as your back slams back with bruising force.

“I haven’t hurt you yet,” he threatens, those blue irises pulsing with rage and dark power, “That doesn’t mean I won’t. I’ve said before, this will be much easier if you don’t struggle.”

Breathing heavily, you glare at him trying one more time to escape his grip before being pushed back against the wall. You can feel your blood rushing through your veins with adrenalin. Your captor’s gaze traces down your panting mouth to your throat where his handiwork still lay evident. He stares at the bandages for a long time, and you wondered if he would bite you again. You scolded yourself for wishing he would. The tension grows thick as he leans in just slightly with an almost sensual focus on your currently exposed, vulnerable neck.

“You know who they were?” you ask suddenly, as if to distract him.

He pauses before meeting your eyes, “Yes. My brother and his two vulgar little imps. They were coming after you to spite me.”

You furrow your brows, “To spite you? So I almost died because you pissed off the wrong people?”

“Dying would not be the worst thing,” he whispers gravely before the corner of his lips turn up in a smug grin, “Besides, don’t pretend you didn’t long to be in my presence again.”

You shot him a hot glare, and lied, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can pretend all you want,” he murmurs lowly, and you shiver, only proving his next point, “but your body will betray you.” 

He lets you go abruptly, returning to a posture of absolute poise and control, “Never fear, my brother will get bored and you will be able to return home.”

The sudden absence of his body on yours gives you a small pang in your chest that you desperately try to ignore. You frown, one last question on your mind. One that you hope will perhaps shed some light on your situation and bring you some comfort.

“Why did you come to my house?”

Again, you seem to have struck him dumb as he leaves you suspended in lingering silence. Then, turning, as if to avoid looking you in the eye, answers, “I was hungry.”

You’re struck like a blade to the heart. It shouldn’t hurt, it made perfect sense, and that’s all you could ever hope or think it was...yet it still made you angry and hurt that your life had just been turned upside down because he was  _ hungry _ .

“And unless you’d like to volunteer, I must go feed,” he states unceremoniously, making his way to the door, “I suggest you eat as well. There’s plenty of food.”

“Wait,” you say, and he stops just as he reaches for the doorknob, “What’s your name?”

He glances back at you and with a strange sadness he says, “Michael.”

Then he walks out, closing the door and leaving you in your prison.


	4. (Un)Welcome Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael pays a visit to his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm trying to keep myself posting regularly, so this chapter is shorter than the others. I might be going back and editing some things later, so be on the lookout for that! I hope you enjoy it!

Beneath the dry desert wilderness beyond San Francisco, hidden inside a bunker built nearly two centuries beforehand, Abbadon and his coven waited in the dark underground. This living situation not only kept them safe from the abhorrent sunlight, but those who would seek to destroy them. The only marker indicating its existence was a curved structure above the surface that would seem alien to the average observer; but no one disturbed the vampire den, knowing that too many whose curiosity got the better of them had wandered inside, never to return.

Michael approached the structure now as the moon sat high in the dark sky, two figures meeting him at the entrance. The two lackeys who had assisted his brother the night he attacked you.

“Looky here, Tate,” Tristan, the vampire with red streaks in his hair said slyly to his companion, “His Royal Highness decided to grace us with his presence.”

“Looking for a round two, pretty boy?” Tate goaded as he dragged his tongue over his gleaming fangs.

“I’m not here to waste my time on you two,” Michael answered with deadly serenity, “I’m here to see my brother. Step aside.”

“And what if he doesn’t want to see you?” Tristan countered, crossing his arms defiantly.

“He’s busy,” Tate added.

Michael’s mesmerizing blue eyes grew red as blood as he stepped closer, towering over both of them, “I’ll only say it once more,” his voice is a demonic growl, “Step aside.”

As much as they would desire to defy him, they knew Michael’s power, fighting him would be a death wish. In the vampire world, there ruled one above them all as the most dangerous monster among them. One who had a line to the Devil himself. And he stood before these two relatively young vampires now. So, they do as he says, and step aside for him to enter.

The king descended the steps, hearing the faint echo of dark, pounding music as he neared the bottom. He took the last step, beholding the gory sight in front of him.

Several naked humans were laid out in crucifixion poses, surrounded by vampires drinking from the veins in their wrists, ankles, and necks. Blood oozed down the bare skin of their victims who sat wide-eyed in shock, their mouths open in a silent scream. In the center of the room sat the dark-haired, handsome man from the bar, a young woman laid across his lap deadly still as he feasted from her bleeding wounds. A grand fireplace illuminated him from behind, giving him the glow of a creature from Hell. He didn’t even notice Michael at first.

Michael threw out his hand, turning off the music and causing the hungry horde to turn and angrily hiss and glare at him. Some looked ready to pounce and attack. Barely glancing up from his meal, Abbadon slowly licked the blood from his victim before pushing her off of him, her body hitting the ground with a thud.

He stood up, his arms outstretched as he bowed at the waist with a mocking smirk, “All hail his majesty! Had I known you’d be joining us I would have brought an extra snack.”

He walks forward, his gaze set on his brother, “You were lucky to have escaped with your life.”

He chuckles, placing a hand over his dead heart, “Oh, I thank you for your mercy.”

“I had every right to protect what is mine,” he growled, “You know very well the law.”

He steps off the little platform before the fireplace and struts towards him with arrogance evident in every step, “You broke your own rule. As far as I’m concerned, it’s open season. And that is how everyone will see it,” he says, indicating to the horde all around them, “Your poor friend is rolling over in her grave.”

At the mention of ‘his poor friend,’ Michael bares his fangs and takes a threatening step forward, “I marked them.’

“Have they tasted your blood?” 

He didn’t answer. Which was all he needed to prove his point.

“No? Then you’ve done nothing but seal their fate,” he shrugged, “Unless you intend to keep them as a pet.”

Michael narrowed his eyes, “I intend to keep them safe.”

Abbadon laughed, saying cruelly, “You fucked that up, didn’t you?”

He didn’t want to fight, not here, there were too many, even if he could take them all; and every single one of them looked as though they would like nothing more than to rip his throat out.. 

“I am ordering you, as your King,” he says lowly, “to stand down.”

“Even if I did, every other vampire in the city has their sights set on that little human. And you can’t keep them all away.” 

“They know better than to defy their king. And you should as well.”

He gives him a knowing look, his lips turning up in a grin, “They don’t trust their King anymore.”

Michael scowls at him, glancing around the hostile room and stepping back slightly, saying one last thing before he turns and heads back up the stairs.

“You’ve been warned.”


	5. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Michael grow a bit closer, and you start to think that maybe he can be trusted, but a strange encounter leaves you hurt and confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! This is probably the longest chapter I've written and I love it. I hope you like it too!

Three days. You’ve been stuck in this apartment for three days, not that you would know that on your own. There are no clocks, digital or otherwise, no way to see the outside world. Michael’s visits mark the days. When he would walk through the door, you’d ask the same thing. “Can I go home?”

Every time, the same answer, “No.”

If it weren’t for being stuck here against your will, you might actually find the apartment a nice place to live. It had everything you needed to live, and it was quaint in its own way. You had discovered clean clothes in the wardrobe, mostly T-shirts and jeans, and a small bathroom you hadn’t noticed before in the bedroom. At the very least, you were able to bathe and eat adequately. It was the boredom that really got to you. 

The only source of entertainment was the small bookshelf in the living room containing a few pieces of classic literature, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe, a few popular crime novels, and, ironically, Dracula by Bram Stoker. You refused to pick it up out of spite at first, but on the second day you picked it up out of boredom. You didn’t expect a fiction book to contain any answers to your current problem, though you’d previously thought vampires were fiction as well. 

You were in the middle of skimming through a few chapters when Michael returned. 

“Hoping to find a way to kill me?”

“I doubt you’d keep it around if I could,” you reply, despising how your heart thumped harder at the sound of his voice. You were sitting on the couch, not turning around to look at him, “Besides everyone knows you gotta stab vampires through the heart.”

He walked closer, leaning over so that his cold aura seemed to suffocate you.

“Do I need to be careful?”

You shut the book, setting it down beside you and frowning, “You’re too fast for me.”

He chuckled, a low, pleasing sound, “Wise thinking.”

You stand and turn around, the bitterness obvious in your tone, “You know what I’m gonna ask.”

“Fortunately, I have a different answer this time. Unfortunately, you’ll have precautions to take from now on to ensure your safety.”

You feel a weight lift from your shoulders, a hopeful smile crossing your lips, “But I’m going home?”

He stares into your eyes, seemingly shocked by your optimism, “Yes.”

His gaze drops down, moving over your body, causing heat to rush to your face.

“I’m sorry if the clothes aren’t very fitting. I had to guess what size you were.”

You furrow your brows, tilting your head to the side. Somehow it didn’t occur to you until just now that he had to be the one who got these for you, and it made your chest ache. Something about that made him seem so...tender.

“No, they’re fine. Thank you,” you murmur.

He offers a nod before walking over to the door, “Come, there’s a car waiting for us.”

You follow him quickly, mounting a set of stairs that led back up into the above world. The fresh night air washed over you, clean and warm. You took a deep breath in, heaving a sigh. He watches you with a curious twitch of his lips, leading you towards the car that sat a few feet from you both. You took quick notice of the world around you to find yourself in a clearing surrounded by trees, a small path of tire tracks leading up to the spot.

“How’d you get someone to come all the way out here?” You ask as he opens the door for you.

You could see a bald man sitting in the driver’s seat, looking straight ahead as if he’s waiting for a command. You slip into the backseat and look up at Michael, wanting an answer.

“I have my connections,” he grins and shuts the door, walking over to the other side and getting in, finally signaling for the driver to go. As if coming to life, the man turned on the ignition and started forward.

You had taken your bandages off during your stay, the wounds have healed up rather quickly, leaving only two red marks on your skin. Your fingers reach up absentmindedly to touch them. He glances over at you, staring at the two scars with a strange mixture of sorrow and hunger. You look over at him warily.

“Do they...still hurt?” He asks quietly.

You shake your head, “No. They stopped hurting after the first day…”

The pain wasn’t what you thought of when you remembered your wounds. It was that delicious ecstasy that had overtaken you as he held you close, almost sweetly like a lover’s embrace. Even now your body yearned for him to touch you.

Once arriving on your street, you both exited the car and walked the rest of the way to your house. You both remained quiet, but it was pleasant just to be out in the real world again. At your door, he stood a foot or so away as your hand rested on the handle hesitatingly before you turned.

“Do you...want to come in?” 

The words surprised even you. You’d been telling yourself this entire time that you couldn’t wait to get home and return to normal. Maybe you’d have some crucifixes around the house, but still relatively normal. 

Yet, it seemed...polite to invite him in? You didn’t know. Your head was swimming.

He stared at you for a long time, not even moving as you opened the door and stepped inside, leaving it open for him. Cautiously, as if he were afraid you would attack him, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

You walked over to your stove and pulled out the kettle. Tea always helps to calm your nerves.

“I’m going to make some tea. I would offer you some, but…” you trail off and he nods understandingly.

“Please, sit,” you say, gesturing to the kitchen table. He obliged.

As you waited for the water to boil, you were keenly aware that he could come up behind you at any moment and sink his teeth into you again; and you tried to convince yourself that wasn’t what you wanted, but to no avail. You imagined those large, jeweled hands snaking around your waist, those full lips caressing your skin, the explosion of pleasure that would course through you after the pain of his bite had subsided.

“So, what’s your story, if I may ask?” You say if only to get out of your own head, “How did you... become a vampire?”

He was quiet for a long time and you worried that you’d offended him. You turn around to see him staring off into nothing, as though recalling memories from an age long passed. Finally, he sighed, glancing over at you with an age-worn frown, “Revenge.”

The kettle whistles and you turn off the stove, pouring the water into the small mug containing the teabag. After a moment, you walked over to the table and sat across from him, gently signaling for him to continue if he so wished.

He did, but it seemed to bring him great pain, “I was a king, a man of great power and influence. I served the Holy Roman Church with an unmatched fervor, joining in the crusades to take back the holy land,” he grimaced, “I left my brother, Abbadon, to govern my kingdom in my stead; but he grew too used to power and stole my throne, creating an army to follow him. When I returned, I attempted to fight...but my men were weak from battle and we were driven back.”

His hand resting on the table tightened into a fist, and he closes his eyes as though to hold back his emotion, “Ashamed and betrayed, I called out to the Devil, angered that God wasn’t listening, and made an unholy deal. For my eternal soul, he gave me and my army the power to defeat my brother...and we became monsters.”

You listened with rapt attention, letting your tea get cold. You frown, seeing how much he suffers because of that choice. After a beat of silence, he continues, opening his eyes, “But when the time came, I couldn’t kill my brother. I couldn’t bear the thought of living this accursed immortal life alone. So, not knowing how I turned him into what I was,” he gave a bitter chuckle, “What a fool.”

You sit quietly for a moment, taking a cautious sip of your tea as you struggle to put together the proper words to say. It took a lot for him to admit what he’d just told you, and you felt as though you owed him the same courtesy. Somehow...you trusted him.

“It’s not foolish to not want to be alone,” you began, your voice thick as you spoke, “I never knew my parents. Grew up in the foster care system, and always felt alone.”

The memories of those lonely nights, feeling unloved, uncared for, a nobody with nowhere to go came flooding back to you, bringing hot tears into the corners of your eyes, which you quickly forced away. The tiniest smile was able to form on your lips, “But then, when I turned 18, I got this anonymous letter. It said that there was a house waiting for me,” you indicated around you, “This one. And it came with a check for 250k,” you felt the shock and gratitude come over you anew, even though it’d been years, “It felt like some sort of fairytale. I tried to find whoever it was that had sent it, but I never could,” you chuckled and waved your hand dismissively, “It’s silly, but I always hoped they’d just show up one day at my door. For someone to care about me that much...I just felt like I wasn’t alone anymore. I had a guardian angel.”

He studies your face, his own expression indiscernible. He’s grown even quieter, unmoving.

Concerned, you prompt, “Are you all right?”

He looks away, rising from his seat, “Forgive me. I should be going,” he murmurs, heading towards the door as if he’s in a sudden hurry, “I must feed.”

“Wait!” You call out after him, leaping to your feet. 

He stops dead in his tracks, pausing before he turns towards you with a curious glance.

Hesitating, your heart pounding in your chest, you tug down the collar of your shirt to reveal your neck, “Do you…”

The words dry up in your throat, leaving only a strange and tense silence between you both. His eyes widen and fall to your neck, his lips parting enticingly. You notice every little reaction; how his fingers twitch slightly, the overwhelming desire in his eyes that makes you shiver, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Your entire body is hot and you’re compelled to walk towards him.

“I mean, I guess I can trust that you’re not going to kill me considering how you saved my life,” you mumble.

He can’t take his eyes off your neck, “You don’t have to do that.”

You swallow, reaching down and tugging off your shirt, letting it drop to the floor, your chest exposed to him, heaving as your breath quickens. You tried to justify it as practical, so that blood wouldn’t get on the shirt...but seeing the way he looked at your bare, flushed skin banished all excuses, “I know…”

His eyes raise up to meet yours; you tremble under his blue gaze, darkened with lust. He hesitates as if he were fighting within himself, torn between desire and conscience. After a tense moment, he steps forward, extending his hand for you to take. You put your trembling hand in his and he leads you back to your bedroom. Deja vu fills you as you walk down the short hallway and your mind is racing as fast as your heart. 

Willingly, you make your way over to your bed and lay back, your chest aching in anticipation as he sits down beside you, taking his fingertips and running them along your throat, somehow knowing exactly where your pulse beats beneath your skin. He leans down and you catch a glimpse of his glimmering fangs before they plunge into your neck, making you cry out in excruciating pain. You convulse and attempt to throw him off of you to stop the agony but to no avail. He holds you tight, one hand at the back of your head and the other around your waist to hold you steady. Anguished tears fill your eyes as you whimper and struggle beneath him, and you want to cry out for help. Through the bloody mist of your pain, you can hear the lewd, wet sounds of his tongue and mouth against your skin, feel his growling moans vibrate down to your very core. It’s the most intimate moment you’ve ever experienced, the most you’ve ever given over to another person...though, he wasn’t like any other person, was he?

Suddenly, the pleasure rushes over you in multiple waves, swirling, and building in intensity. A sharp, cracked whine leaves your mouth and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, wanting him deeper, harder, more, more, more…

You shake violently as he bites down again, the torment mixing with the utter bliss and overstimulating your senses.

“Michael!” his name pierces the night as sharp as his fangs your tender flesh and you feel your consciousness slipping; but before you can fall into darkness, he lets go, sliding his tongue over your throat to gather the remaining droplets of your sweet blood before they can spill down your body. When he sits up, his hypnotic eyes meet yours and before you can catch your breath, a command leaves your lips.

“Kiss me.”

Before you can even finish the sentence, his lips are on yours, demanding and ravenous. His tongue flicks over your own, not even bothering to ask for permission before it mentors your mouth. You respond in kind, threading your fingers through his silken hair and breathing in that intoxicating scent of roses. His hands roam over your body with hot passion, greedily tugging at your pants to pull them off-

“No,” he whispers hastily, pulling away, “No. We can’t.”

You stare at him, confused and hurt as you reach up to touch his face, “Why not?”

He pushes your hand away, “I must go. Thank you for inviting me in. Don’t leave this house until morning. I’ll keep watch.”

With those words, he’s walking out of your bedroom door quickly. You hear your front door shut. Shaking, you cannot help a quiet sob escaping you as you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling ashamed and wounded. 

_I’m such an idiot,_ you think as you curl into a ball on your bed and begin to softly cry.


	6. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael isn’t there to save you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know this is another short chapter, but I really wanted to go ahead and get this updated especially as I get busier the closer the holidays get. I hope you enjoy!

It was a stupid idea to walk outside at night after everything you’d experienced, and against Michael’s explicit orders; but you’d convinced yourself that it was safe because Michael would protect you, besides he wouldn’t have brought you back home if he didn’t think you were safe. It was just up and down your street, just to clear your head. Even after a day, you still couldn’t get over the way Michael had pushed you away, almost as if he were disgusted. Were you only good enough for your blood?

The night was warm, a crescent moon peeked out from a dark sky like a diamond over a black velvet cloth. A breeze gently caresses your face as you slowly make your way down the road, passing the other houses in your neighborhood, most of which seem to have been put to rest for the night. 

Yet, even though it’d been calming at first, you suddenly don’t feel safe, making you stop in your tracks. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps trailing down your spine. You have to get back inside.

You turn to hurry back when you come face to face with a man, making you jump back.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” a husky, familiar voice says, “Miss me?”

Even in the pale light of the moon, you recognize that face, how it had eyed you up and down in the bar, grinned as it had you trapped against the brick wall. You burst into a sprint, but are quickly intercepted by the two goons, one putting you in a headlock. You scream, only for a knife to be held up to your face. You shut up.

“You had a lot of nerve stepping outside at night,” Abbadon said, laughing when he sees the terror in your eyes, “If you’re hoping that Michael is coming to save you, don’t count on it. I had him taken care of.”

The words strike to your core. Had they…? No, it can’t be. There’s no way Michael would have gone down that easily.

You’re dragged away and thrown into the back seat of a car, the knife still poised to your throat. You sit pressed against the door for hours, your mind too numb and scared for you to pay attention to the conversation. The city streets and neighborhoods pass by soon replaced by open field and wilderness. Eventually, you pull off the side of the road and are forced out of the car. The trio lead you through the brush until you come to a large structure in the middle of the woods. 

“Welcome to my humble home,” Abbadon says as he leads them inside and they descend the steps.

In a large, cave-like room, a group is gathered as if waiting for their arrival. They stare up at the scared human being forcefully lead down to them. You feel like fresh meat in a lion’s den.

“You’ve brought dinner,” a woman in a long purple dress says. She walks up to them with a black, silver-handled cane, her auburn hair pulled tightly into an updo. 

Abbadon grins, “I brought  _ my _ dinner. We’ve still got prisoners for the rest of you.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to bring her here?” She looks you up and down, “After what Michael said?”

“I had my brother handled,” he says, “Some hunters equipped to handle the king of the vampires.”

_ King?  _ You think in amazement.

He grabs you by the back of your neck and drags you towards the center of the room, throwing you on the ground. You whimper and try to scramble away, only to be held down by Tristan and Tate.

Abbadon stands over you, his smile dripping with wicked glee.

“You and I are going to have so much fun, sweetheart.”


	7. Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone saves you from Abbadon's clutches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy it!

You lost count of how many times Abbadon drank from you. Your mind was hazy, body ashen, and weak. You could barely keep your eyes open as your breath left your lungs in shallow huffs. As if from a great distance, you could hear footsteps. Then you were being lifted up.

“Wake up,” his gruff voice commanded.

You want to say  _ fuck you  _ but it comes out a weak murmur. He sets you up in a chair limply and your eyes open enough to see his hazy silhouette. He’s shirtless, showing off his slim, toned body. You stare apathetically, your gaze tracing over his arm where you see a knife poised to strike in his hand.

You jump slightly, still too weak to try and escape, fear gripping your rapidly beating heart, “Please, please don’t kill me…”

He sneers, “I’m not going to kill you, sweetheart. Quite the opposite. I’m offering you a new life.”

With those words, he drags the tip of the blade across his chest, a thin line of red trailing behind it, slowly dripping down his skin. He barely winces. Before you can object, he grabs you by the neck and forces your face against him, the blood smearing on your face. You whimper in confusion and terror.

“Drink it,” he demands, now putting the knife to your back, “Or I  _ will _ kill you.”

Shaking, you open your mouth and passively let the blood drip onto your lips and tongue. It’s metallic and salty, making you grimace as you forcibly swallow it. He let out a soft moan, petting your head almost kindly.

“You and I are one now,” he whispers, “You belong to me.”

With the last bit of defiance left in you, you pull back and say, “I...belong to Michael. He claimed me.”

Abbadon grinned and shook his head, “No. He merely marked you,” he wiped the blood from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, “What I’ve done is make you mine.”

Tears formed in your heavy eyes. You wanted to go home, to return to life as normal. What had you done to deserve this?

Nothing. It was Michael. He’s the one who put a target on your back. If he’d never entered your house that fateful night, none of this would have happened. And he wasn’t even able to protect you like he promised he would. You hated him at that moment. 

Outside the little room you were in, you heard a roar, like an animal in pain. He whipped his head around and stared at the direction of the sound. He lets you go and you nearly fall back onto the ground.

“Don’t fucking move.”

With that command, he was gone and you knew you had to at least try to escape. The sounds of a struggle met your ears, more roaring. Unfamiliar voices. Yet, instead of fear, you felt hope rising in you. Someone was there to rescue you!

_ Michael? _

Pushed forward by desperation, you weakly get up and open the door, weaving your way to the main hall where the commotion was coming from. Upon entering, you catch sight of the carnage. Bodies litter the floor, the bodies of the other vampires. Standing over them were three women dressed in black. Abbadon was nowhere in sight. The one standing in the center, a beautiful woman with flowing blonde hair, must’ve heard you. She whirled around as if to attack, but you held up your hands and fell to your knees.

“Please! I’m not a vampire!” you scream, “I’m human!”

The one to your left, an older woman with bright, puffy red hair holds out her hand, “It’s all right, dear. You’re safe.”

“For now,” the skinny blonde to her right says bluntly.

The woman in the center cautiously approached, kneeling down to look into your eyes. Her gaze is kind, motherly.

“What’s your name?”

You sniffle, so grateful to see another person, to be safe, “(Y/N)...”

She blinks, almost reeling back. Did she recognize you? Did she know something you didn’t? Offering her hands, she says, “Come, we’re getting you out of here.”

You cannot help yourself and throw yourself into her arms, weeping, and shaking. She strokes your hair and whispers comforting words next to your ear, like a mother, like someone who cared about you. But still, in the back of your mind, you wondered if you’d ever see Michael again.


	8. Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth about your past revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Trying to keep updating consistent. Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy!

The large white antebellum mansion stood like a beacon in the New Orleans sun. The three women, Cordelia, Madison, and Myrtle, lead you inside. It was spotless and brimming with life, so different from the dark, underground caves you’d been stuck in for the past few days. A few girls dressed in black came up to greet Cordelia and they stared at you curiously before heading off to do whatever it is they were doing. 

“Madison, will you show (Y/N) to a room?” Cordelia asks.

“Yeah, sure,” she sighs and starts walking, expecting you to follow behind, which you did. As you did, your eye caught sight of a room off to the side where you saw portraits of different women hanging up like an exhibit of some kind. For some reason, you detour from your path and approach the room. Madison turns to make sure you’re there and groans when you start walking away.

“Hey, rooms are up here, dumbass,” she says, earning a stern look from Cordelia who follows you into the room.

You take in all the different portraits of women, sitting regally, looking out into the world with austere gazes. But one caught your attention, it was different from all the others. There was a certain life to it, blue butterflies surrounding a beautiful young woman in a long black dress. Her fingers reached up gracefully, white rose petals in her hand. You stared at it with fascination.

“Do you recognize her?” Cordelia asks behind you.

“I feel like I do,” you reply, “But I can’t think of where I’ve seen her…”

“Her name was Mallory,” she says quietly, walking up to stand at your side, “A promising young witch who joined our coven of hunters.”

You glance at her, then back at the painting, “You know something, don’t you? About me? You seemed surprised when I told you my name.”

She smiles kindly, “Yes...I wasn’t sure if it was you, but now I’m certain.”

You turn to her, “Tell me. If it’s any explanation as to why I’m in this fucking mess then I want to know.”

She nods solemnly, pausing before asking a question, “Do you know anything about your family?”

You shake your head sadly, “I never had one. Or...I don’t remember one. I’ve always lived on my own.”

She takes in a deep breath, “You don’t remember anything...because a memory spell was placed on you. To protect you.”

You take a step back, shocked, “A...memory spell?”

She gestures towards the painting, “When you were a child, you were placed under a memory spell by your mother to forget who you were.”

Your eyes widen, “My mother? You mean...?”

She nods, “Mallory. Abbadon had sworn to kill her. In order to ensure your safety, she wiped your memory.”

“He killed her,” you say numbly.

“Yes,” she answers, tears forming in her eyes.

You stare up at the picture, confused and angry and sorrowful. You’d been told that you’d had a family all along, only for her to be snatched away from you.

“What about his brother...Michael?” you ask, hoping desperately that he had nothing to do with this; though the pit in your stomach told you a different story.

Cordelia’s face contorts in anger, “Had it not been for that monster, your mother might still be alive.”

You feel like you might pass out, walking shakily past her back towards the stairs, “I think...I need to lie down.”

“Of course, dear,” she coos.

Madison leads you upstairs to a clean, comfortable room, leaving you alone quickly as if she couldn’t be bothered. You didn’t mind. You wanted to be alone.

You walk over to the bed and slowly lower yourself down, sinking into the soft sheets. It didn’t take long before you were crying, weeping into the pillows. After an hour, you were finally able to stop, your face red and puffy. 

_ I hate him, _ you think,  _ I hate him. _

After a few minutes of staring at the wall, you close your eyes and drift off into a much needed sleep.


	9. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Michael visits you at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I have been super sick, which has kept me from posting, but I managed to finish this chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

What woke you up was a tapping at the window, causing you to stir and turn towards it incredulously, sleep still clinging heavily to your eyelids. You jump to your feet, eyes wide when you see who’s there.

Michael is at the window, tapping his finger on the glass, asking to be allowed in. A part of you doesn’t want to let him in, doesn’t want anything to do with him; yet you find yourself walking towards the window and opening it, allowing him in. 

“I’m glad that you’re safe,” he says sincerely.

“Where were you?” You demand.

He frowns, understanding your anger, “Abbadon sent a group of his most ruthless goons after me, by the time I killed them and got to your house it was too late.”

You couldn’t deny that you were happy to see him, as much as you hated to admit it; but that didn’t change the fact that he had some answers to give you.

“They told me about my mother,” you state, crossing your arms.

He stares at you blankly for a few moments before signing, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “How much did they tell you?”

You retort, “How long did you know that your brother killed my mother?”

His shoulders sag slightly and he looks into your eyes with sadness, “I’ve always known.”

Balling your hands into fists, you demand, “Did you send him to do it?”

“What?” He says, offended.

“Did you send Abbadon to kill her?”

“No,” he asserts, then looks away for a moment, as if into the distant past, “But it was my fault.”

You believe him despite your mind screaming at you not to. With a weary sigh, you ask, “What do you mean?”

“Mallory and the witches who rescued you are hunters of my kind,” he explains, “I struck a deal with them many years ago in order to foster a sense of order for my people. Vampires were forbidden to kill for food and in return, only those who broke this law would be hunted. Mallory was the best of these hunters…” his eyes fill with sorrow, “and my friend. It was an unexpected friendship but a true one. She believed the best in people, thought that there was a way for vampires and humans to live in peace; which we did relatively...until she had a child.”

He looks at you, “A child born beneath a blood moon.”

You tilt your head, “A blood moon?”

“Those born under a blood moon are...particularly attractive to vampires. My brother, to incite war, killed Mallory, but she had hidden you away,” he furrows his brows as if in pain, “I found her dying and she made me swear to protect you from my brother and all other vampires. And I did.”

You think back to what he’d told you when you’d asked why he came to your home. I was hungry, he said, and he hadn’t been lying. After years of resisting he’d finally drank the forbidden. 

And in doing so, ruined your life.

“Until you couldn’t help yourself and drank my blood,” you grimace at him, “You broke your vow.”

He looks abashed, unable to meet your gaze again, “Not a day goes by where I do not feel shame for it.”

“Well, your shame doesn’t fix my life, does it?!” You suddenly explode, “Everything I’ve known was turned upside down because of you.”

He takes a step forward, daring to grasp your shoulders and look at you finally, “I know I cannot ask you to forgive me, but I am determined to keep my promise to my friend. The witches may have killed his coven, but Abbadon is still out there. I swear to you that I will find him and kill him for what he’s done.”

Something about his eyes always soothes you, make you melt into his touch. As angry and hurt as you are, you also want to fall into his arms for protection. You want him to hold you and assure you everything will be alright.

“He...made me drink his blood,” you mutter.

Michael looks horrified, gripping you tighter, “What?!”

Scared, you stutter, “Y-yes! I was forced to! What does that mean?”

He seems incensed, turning away with a growl, “That bastard!”

“What?” You beg, “What does that mean?!”

He turns back to you, “It means...that you are his familiar.”

“Familiar?”

“His servant. A pet,” he says through gritted teeth, “Not only that...but that you are addicted to his blood. If you don’t drink it, you will become sick. Long enough without it, and you die.”

Shaking, you reach out and grab his arm for support, “There’s a way to break that, isn’t there?”

He nods, “In order to be free, the vampire whose blood you drank has to die,” he carefully reaches up and touches your cheek, “And he will by my hand, I promise.”

You lean into the touch, your lips parting to say weakly, “Because you promised my mother.”

He tilts your chin so that you are looking into those beautiful eyes, “Because I care about you.”

Your heart flutters and warmth fills your face, “That night...why didn’t you stay with me?”

He answers knowingly, “I felt so ashamed at having broken my vow...I knew I couldn’t take advantage of you like that. I’m not a good man, anymore at least, but that of that much I was certain.”

You nod, understanding. It lessened the blow of rejection slightly.

“I forgive you. For everything.”

Surprised, he smiles softly, “That’s...very kind of you. I know I don’t deserve it.”

“You can make it up to me,” you say boldly, shocked at your own courage, “Kiss me again.”

You’re even more shocked when a faint smirk crosses his lips and he grabs your chin, pulling you into a kiss. 


End file.
